Garden of May - Chapter 58
Chapter 58
“I’ll go and find him.”
“Stay where you are. The purpose of my visit today concerns you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had intended to proceed gradually, but it seems time is of the essence. I must return to Lyndon this evening.”
After checking his pocket watch again, Count Roden whispered something to Harold, who briefly left the room and returned with a Romani woman. She was old, leaning on an iron-tipped cane, one leg dragging lifelessly behind her.
“This is…?”
“Madam Luther. She’s a renowned specialist in these matters.”
The woman’s voluminous clothing emitted a stale odor. She reached the vicinity of the sofa and bowed respectfully. Unlike most Romani, her demeanor wasn’t subservient in the presence of nobility, a detail Vanessa found strangely impressive. She shifted her gaze from the old woman back to Count Roden.
“In these matters?”
“Didn’t Lord Somerset inform you? I was under the impression that this had already been discussed.”
“I wasn’t…informed of anything.”
Count Roden sighed, as if exasperated, and fell silent for a moment. His expression briefly mirrored Wyatt’s when forced to endure cheap whiskey.
“This is a necessary procedure for marriages of our standing. For the sake of fidelity between husband and wife, and for the future heirs of our family.”
Vanessa slowly controlled her quickening breath.
“You require proof of my virginity.”
“I’m glad we understand each other.” Count Roden leaned back into his chair with a strange smile. “It’s best to be certain about these things. I paid your uncle a considerable sum.”
Fidelity and virginity. The words, coming from Count Roden’s mouth, churned her stomach. The gossip rags were filled with stories of his infatuation with a young actress from the Lyndon Grand Theatre.
She had known this might be demanded of her eventually, but she’d naively assumed it wouldn’t be until after River Ross was safe, far away from her uncle and Count Roden’s grasp, perhaps halfway across the ocean. Such a barbaric request was usually reserved for the wedding night.
“I find that remark rather insulting.”
“You attended boarding school, I believe.”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“You expect me to believe that young men and women, at the height of their youthful passions, were placed in close proximity without incident? I’m not so naive.”
Vanessa’s face paled as she abruptly stood.
“If you have such doubts, then break off the engagement. My uncle will respect your decision.”
“Sit down, Vanessa.” The amiable mask vanished from the man’s face. “Sit down and spread your damned legs in front of this woman.”
The vulgarity, unlike anything she’d ever heard, struck her like a physical blow. Her eyelids felt hot, as if burning. She couldn’t believe this monstrous man was her fate. She struggled to breathe evenly, but tears, hot and unwelcome, streamed down her face before she even realized she was crying.
“Dear me.” Count Roden, his repulsive mask back in place, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Now, now. There was no need for tears. I forgot how childish you still are.”
Vanessa flinched as his hand reached out. She didn’t know why stories of husbands striking their wives suddenly sprang to mind. Her fearful reaction seemed to please him; his expression softened, returning to its earlier affability.
“There, there. Don’t cry. I simply forgot you’re still so young.”
“Forgive me, my lord, but my methods are different.” The old woman, who had been standing motionless, finally spoke. “I don’t examine a woman by forcing her legs apart. That is a task best left to physicians. I simply require the young lady to extend her arm.”
“Is that all it takes?”
“Ah, I see.” Count Roden smiled knowingly. “Now I understand why respectable ladies speak so highly of Madam Luther. Indeed, asking a well-bred young woman to spread her legs is rather uncouth…”
He watched their exchange with an amused expression. Then, Vanessa understood. Count Roden had been toying with her like a cat with a mouse. He hadn’t cared about the old woman’s verification; he’d wanted to see her reaction.
“Such pleasures are rightfully reserved for the husband on the wedding night.”
“What will you do with my arm?” Vanessa turned to Madam Luther, as if to block out the count’s repulsive words. She extended her arm, and the old woman’s claw-like fingers snatched her wrist.
“I will place a drop of water, mixed with the blood of a lamb and holy water, upon your wrist. The lamb must be no older than three months, untouched by corruption, and fed only on grass kissed by the morning dew.”
“….”
“If you are untouched, the blood will bead. If not, it will run.” As the old woman finished speaking, her sharp fingernails dug into Vanessa’s skin.
